Care For Another
by FansieFace
Summary: Crutchie receives more pity than he wants. Jack gives more encouragement than he can afford. When they meet, can they right the unbalance?
1. Chapter 1

He hobbled, he tripped, he fell. He scooted, he crawled, he limped. But somehow, Crutchie Morris managed to make it to the bakery. His too-small crutch limited him to either an awkward hunched over stumble or an even more awkward lurching walk. He breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth of the small shop enveloped him and he inhaled the smell of warm bread. He bought a roll with two of his precious pennies and concentrated on leaving the bakery without tripping. On the street, many people cast pitying glances or murmured soft words of hope to the eleven year old boy. He gave small smiles in return, knowing that acknowledging them may earn him a few more pennies. He was used to the pity, used to people only seeing his disability. Nobody ever looked past the fact that he couldn't walk without his crutch, choosing to focus on what he couldn't do instead of what he could. Crutchie pondered the fact as he carefully sat on a crate in an alley to eat his roll, his first food all day. From his location, he could see the sun set around the city-scape, see the red glow the winter sun set around the buildings of the Bronx. So much beauty and so much ugliness existed in the same place, in the same city. He was startled out of his thoughts by a stumbling figure falling into the alley. The figure sat up, shaking his head weakly as he recovered. Snide laughter reached the alley from the street outside of the sheltering walls.

"That's whatcha get for messing with us, kiddo!" Crutchie coughed to get the figure's attention.

"Wha-oh. Jist a kid." The figure was a boy, only a year or two older than Crutchie from the look of him. He had tussled brown hair and eyes that were a bright, clear blue.

"Who is you? I ain't seen ya around here before."

"Jack. Jack Kelly." The boy didn't elaborate. Crutchie stood and stumbled to the boy and held out what was left of his roll.

"Ya look hungry, Jack Kelly." Jack looked suspicious, but took the roll, tearing into it as if he hadn't seen food in a week.

"What happened to ya leg, kid?"

"I ain't dat much younger den you'se!" Crutchie paused before finishing his response. "Polio. When I was real little."

"Oh." He mumbled around a mouthful of bread. "Ya crutch looks a bit small."

"It's from when I was littler den I is now." Jack looked at Crutchie and then at the crutch. He swallowed. Crutchie expected him to say more about his gimp leg, but Jack stayed quiet. Crutchie watched him wolf down the rest of the bread. When the brown haired boy was done, he looked up at what little piece of sky was visible from behind clouds.

"Ya know, kid, sometimes I wonder of livin' here is even worth it. Nobody cares about me dat kin do nothin' about it no more. I jist wanna git out." Crutchie studied the boy, feeling that there was something deeper hidden behind the wish, a past that was controlling him.

"Well, Jack Kelly, it may not seem worth it, but one day ya life will mean somethin', ta someone, no mattah how small it seems ta ya." It felt weird to not be the one receiving encouragement, but to be giving it, no matter how small the encouragement was. Jack barked out a mirthless laugh.

"Yeah, my life is gonna mean somethin' one day, all right. It's gonna mean relief ta da bulls when dey catch me. No mattah how I escape, dey's always gonna be afta me."

"Da bulls is afta ya. Well dat don't mean ya can't mean somethin' ta somebody else too." Jack just shook his head.

"Last time I meant somethin' ta someone, I let 'em down. He got taken ta da Refuge because of me. He got beat because of me. He died! He died because of me!" Jack took a deep, shuddering breath. "Sorry, kid. I'm tellin' ya my life story like ya care."

"I do care." Crutchie saw that Jack really, really needed somebody to care about him, somebody who could help him. So for once in his short life, Crutchie did the helping instead of being helped. He stood next to Jack with a hand on Jack's shoulder while he calmed down.

"Why would ya care about me? I'se jist some street rat."

"An' whaddaya think I is? A kid wid a happy family?"

"No. Sorry. I didn't mean ta say it like dat."

"I care 'cause I see a kid, yeah, a kid, who's lettin' his past define him. An' a kid who refuses ta move on. An' a kid who needs ta let go. A kid...kinda...like me."

"You ain't nothin' like me, kid! It ain't your fault ya bruddah died sick an' miserable, ya ain't got every bull and da Spidah himself afta ya! Don't make yaself as bad as I is!"

"If you'se so bad, den why doncha bring yaself up ta my level. Don't let ya past rule ya life, live for da now." Crutchie tried to smile at Jack, but his talk was more for himself then he was showing. He had a past he needed to let go of too. He, too, needed to forgive and forget.

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Jack was stunned as he looked at the small boy standing next to him. His leg was small and shriveled, clearly not able to support any weight. His hair was sandy blonde, and his eyes were in-between brown and green. He was clearly bad off, yet had given half of a roll to Jack. Jack had heard the boy's stomach rumble as he ate, so it wasn't as if the boy wasn't hungry. But he had given up food. Food was precious. It cost money. It was needed. It was not just given away to unknown kids. Jack wondered what the kid's motivation was. He thought that the roll maybe was bad, hard and old, or moldy. But it was soft, and still had a bit of warmth in the center. After he finished the roll, he looked up at what he could see of the sky. A bit of gray with a few visible stars as the sun was setting. He thought about his brother. His sweet little Benjamin, only eight to his twelve. Dead because of his stupid mistakes and his bad judgement and his lack of courage and him. Dead because of him. He found himself wondering aloud to his brother up there in the stars if life was still worth living.

"Well, Jack Kelly, it may not seem worth it, but one day ya life will mean somethin', ta someone, no mattah how small it seems ta ya." A quiet little voice said from beside him. It scared him for a moment, thinking that his brother had spoken. He turned and saw the little cripple. Comforting him. Nobody had comforted him since his old man had been left on the street to die. He had comforted Ben, but Ben was too young to comfort him back. It was weird, but nice. But the feeling didn't last as he remembered he couldn't allow anybody to care for him. Not with all of the bulls in New York after him. It would just hurt him. And the pain of knowing that exploded out of him in a hateful sentence. The crip didn't leave his side. He just put a hand on Jack's shoulder and lent his silent support. Then left silence behind and spoke.

"Da bulls is afta ya. Well dat don't mean ya can't mean somethin' ta somebody else too." Jack just couldn't bear it anymore. He spilled the story of his brother, though not specifically, in one rush of words carried on a tide of emotions. Of love, of grief, of anger. Most of all, of guilt.

"Sorry, kid. I'm tellin' ya my life story like ya care."

"I do care." Jack shook his head. No. No, no, no. He wouldn't allow it. It wouldn't happen. He would not be responsible for more pain in another young boy.

"Why would ya care about me? I'se jist some street rat." As soon as the words left his mouth Jack realized his mistake. He hurriedly apologized.

"I care 'cause I see a kid, yeah, a kid, who's lettin' his past define him. An' a kid who refuses ta move on. An' a kid who needs ta let go. A kid...kinda...like me." Jack took a breath. This kid was an innocent little kid with a gimp leg and almost no hope for the future. Jack was a boy who had seen more and been through more than enough to keep him from being innocent. The only thing they had in common was that they had no hope for the future. He hadn't realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud again until the kid spoke up again.

"If you'se so bad, den why doncha bring yaself up ta my level. Don't let ya past rule ya life, live for da now." Jack was taken by surprise. "Live for the now." That would mean forgetting Ben. He would never, ever, forget his sweet little boy. Never. And moving on would mean forgetting. But could he move on without forgetting? Could it make him stronger, rather than keep him lost in his past? Jack was confused. It was not a feeling he liked. He was alway in control, always had some sort of a plan. But this was messing him up. Could he move on without forgetting? Maybe. But what if he tried and did forget. If Ben was forgotten by him, he wouldn't be remembered by anyone. A fate worse than death. Because death had already happened, but forgotten meant nobody would know. Nobody would care. And that brought on even more confusion. The crip had claimed to care for Jack. But did he? Jack had more questions than he could count swirling around his brain, more feelings whirling through him than he wanted to admit. But he considered. He thought. And he let himself be drawn to the boy with the crutch. He let himself lose control, and it felt good. Different, but good.

 **Ok, so this is probably going to end up four or five chapters, which are mostly done. This was originally for Circulation Four, but my muses basically said, "No, no honey. This is all by itself. Write** ** _this_** **for Circulation Four, and finish writing this and publish it all by itself." At least the nice ones did that. My other muses *cough*mynewsies*cough* were more along the lines of, "Are you kidding me? You call yourself a Fansie? We sent you** ** _this_** **idea for the competition and** ** _this_** **one for you to have fun with and publish alone! So shut up and publish** ** _this_** **for Circulation Four and finish this one later!" My muses are not always the kindest, but they usually have valid points. I'm glad I listened to them, 'cause this took a new direction fast.**


	2. Chapter 2

Crutchie peeked over at the place where Jack had fallen asleep the night before. He wasn't there. They had stayed up late, into the hours where only the homeless and hungry were wandering. Talking. They had spent time talking about the future, about what the could do. And about what it was like living as them. But they had avoided the past, avoided breaching the privacy of memories. And they had fallen asleep near to each other, not wanting to leave the newfound friendship too far away. But when morning's light hit the alley, Jack was not lying on the ground next to Crutchie. Crutchie was used to the feeling of disappointment by this point in his life. He gathered his strength and pushed himself up, ready to leave for another day of begging on street corners.

"Hey! Crutchie! Ya leavin' widout me?" Crutchie heard slight panic in the voice coming from above him. He looked up and saw Jack swinging down from a fire escape.

"I thought you left me!"

"Nah! I...we...we is...I mean...friends?" Jack looked hopeful and apprehensive at the same time. Crutchie grinned.

"Friends." Jack still needed his comfort. His hope. Maybe not something he was used to giving, but something he could do. And Jack looked past his crutch and saw the boy beneath. Something nobody had ever done before. Something nobody had bothered to. Crutchie liked that. He liked that even though this boy was older than him, even though he was not a cripple, he still didn't see Crutchie as just a cripple. Jack saw the boy behind the crutch, his brain didn't get stuck at the handicap.

"Where we goin', kid?" Jack was standing next to Crutchie, looking down at him expectantly.

"Well, if da bulls is afta ya, den..." Crutchie thought.

"We can't stay together. I get it, kid."Jack sadly turned away.

"What? No! We'se is stickin' together, Jack!" Crutchie couldn't believe that Jack would say that.

"But wid da bulls afta me..."

"Jack! You'se stuck wid me! We'se is gonna keep away from da bulls together!"

"How? All of 'em in da Bronx knows what I looks like. Dey's caught me before."

"Den...den we'se is goin' ta...ta Manhattan!"

"Manhattan? Dat's where da Spidah's own House of Refuge is!"

"But he ain't gonna look for ya dere, now is he? Dat's a good enough place ta hide out! We kin sell papes, even." Jack had an almost hopeful look on his face, as if he was maybe starting to believe.

"Well, I suppose sellin' papes is a bettah job den beggin' on da street or workin' in a factory. Why not?" Crutchie grinned. Maybe this was a start of a new part of his life. Maybe Jack and him would make it. Maybe there was hope for the future.

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Jack woke up with the first rays of light and looked over to see his new friend still sleeping peacefully. He didn't want to disturb him, so he crept over to a fire escape and pulled himself up several stories before stopping and sitting. He pulled a pencil from his pocket and began a sketch on the side of the building. The brick was rough, not the best surface, but a face began to form. Wavy hair, big eyes. A small nose and lips that were slightly upturned. The face of his brother, before their father was destroyed by the working life, before Ben and Jack had to cope, before Jack's stupidity had gotten them locked up. When Ben was still the happy little boy he should have stayed. Jack felt tears of grief and of anger at himself well up. He tried to stop them, but he couldn't. They cut trails down his dirty cheeks. He cried quietly with his hand on his brother's image. When the tears had stopped, he sat with his back to the wall and looked up to the sky. The stars were disappearing into the sky as the sun rose higher and higher.

"I'm so sorry, Ben. I...it was all my fault. But ya never said dat ta me. Ya never blamed me. Ya turned ta me...an' I let ya down. I let ya down." Jack closed his eyes and let the sun wash over him. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I love ya. But...but I can't jist think of ya all da time. I'se gotta move on. I ain't never gonna forget ya, Ben. Never. But...but I ain't gonna live only thinkin' of ya all da time. I love ya." Jack was startled out of his quiet remembrance of his brother by a shuffling beneath him. He peered down and saw the golden hair of Crutchie making its way out of the alley. He swung down quickly, thinking Crutchie was leaving him behind.

"Hey! Crutchie! Ya leavin' widout me?" He had said he cared about Jack. Was that a lie? Or would he leave without him? Would his care only extend to comforting words?

"I thought you left me!"

"Nah! I...we...we is...I mean...friends?" Jack was nervous putting it all out there like that. He had just given the kid a way out, a way to hurt him before he could be hurt.

"Friends!" Crutchie smiled, a big grin that was slightly lopsided. Jack felt his heart ache at that smile. It reminded him so much of his brother. He saw a boy who was positive, no matter how hard life was, who was optimistic in life even though he had been cursed with a gimp leg. A boy who pushed through it all and still stayed afloat. A boy who didn't hide behind his disability like most beggars did.

"So where we goin', kid?"

"Well, if da bulls is afta ya, den..." Jack felt his heart shatter a little bit more at those words. Of course Crutchie wouldn't want to stick with him with all the bulls of the Bronx after him. It was too risky. It would mean that they might both get caught.

"We can't stay together. I get it, kid." Jack turned away, trying to hide his brokenness.

"What? No! We'se is stickin' together, Jack!" Jack felt hope begin to come back. But it was lost again as he realized once more that sticking together would mean both of them could get caught. And if Crutchie got caught, he would be taken to a House of Refuge. And if he was in a Refuge, it would be more pain and suffering in a small boy that was his fault.

"But wid da bulls afta me..." Crutchie looked shocked.

"Jack! You'se stuck wid me! We'se is gonna keep away from da bulls together!"

"How? All of 'em in da Bronx knows what I looks like. Dey's caught me before." Crutchie looked deep in thought.

"Den...den we'se is goin' ta...ta Manhattan!"

"Manhattan? Dat's where da Spidah's own House of Refuge is!" Jack knew that Warden Snyder was in charge of the Refuges in the city, but that he ran the Manhattan one himself. He had suffered enough at the hand of that...that monster. He was not going back to him, he was not going to allow the Spider to scar him more than he already had.

"But he ain't gonna look for ya dere, now is he? Dat's a good enough place ta hide out! We kin sell papes, even." Jack thought about the life being offered to him. Free and working, not begging or stealing.

"Well, I suppose sellin' papes is a bettah job den beggin' on da street or workin' in a factory. Why not?" Jack felt himself begin to grin when the lopsided grin appeared again. It was the start of a new life.

 **It's been a while, but here you are. I think there should be two more posted chapters, but it's possible that there will be three. Reviews are welcomed and eaten with joy.**


	3. Chapter 3

Crutchie was in pain as he lay on the hard ground in the alley, gasping for breath through the pain radiating from his leg. He was slightly cut, his leg was bruised and twisted more than normal, and his too-small crutch was lying next to him in two pieces.

"Jack!" he whispered into the night. "Pease, Jack, ya gotta find me!" He knew Jack would know something was wrong, because Crutchie was always back before 9:30, and he was still out much after ten. He pulled himself up as best he could and dragged himself to a crate so he could at least sit up. "Please, Jack!" He and Jack had been selling in Manhattan for almost a year, making friends with the newsies and living at the lodging house; Jack had even become a sort of unofficial lieutenant. "Jack." He whispered. It was so cold, he was shivering mightily. A cough escaped his mouth. _No. No, no, no please!_ He thought. Another cough left his mouth. Then he was coughing uncontrollably, heaving, scraping coughs that refused to stop, that left his throat sore and dry.

"Crutch-ieeeeee! Crutchie, please! Crutchie!" He heard through his coughs.

"J-jack?" Crutchie managed to get out from between coughs. "J-jack? Is dat you'se?" He spat it out a little louder. The coughing subsided a little, and Crutchie could hear footsteps running towards the alley.

"Crutchie!" Jack panted, taking in the sight of his friend sitting on a crate. "What happened? What happened ta da crutch?"

"Some boys-" Crutchie stopped to let a few more coughs out. "Some boys jumped me...an' dey...dey broke...da crutch….so I'se couldn't….couldn't walk home."

"You'se sick! C'mon! We'se gotta git ya someplace warm, where you'se can get better!"

"I'se fine, Jack. Jist a little cold, is all." Crutchie ruined his argument with another round of sharp coughs.

""All it takes ta git you sick is a little rain or five minutes in da cold. You'se sick."

"I ain't neither!" Jack just shook his head and pulled his friend to his feet. He looked down at the broken crutch, then kicked it away.

"Ya needed a new one anyways. We'll find one for ya soon." He said.

"Thanks." Crutchie said quietly. He knew that Jack would keep his word. He always did.

"It's what brothers do." Jack said absently, looking around to check for gangs or more boys who might want to jump them. Crutchie smiled at the word. _Brothers._ Crutchie couldn't imagine having a family, not after living how he had been.

"Brothers." He whispered. The coughing started again, as bad as before, and Jack pulled him to his side to try and warm him.

"What'd ya say?" Jack asked, supporting his friend and shuffling forward.

"Brothers." Crutchie said stronger through the coughs. Jack faltered, pausing in his pace and looking at his friend. "You...called us...brothers." Jack urged him on, but looked him in the eye. If Crutchie hadn't still been coughing, he would have laughed at the thought that Jack was likely to run into a light post from not paying attention.

"Yeah, I did." He was quiet at first. "Ain't we brothers?" Crutchie smiled, leaning into Jack for warmth and because there was a new feeling between them. Something stronger than the bond of friendship, something Crutchie hadn't felt since before the polio. Since his family.

"Yeah, I guess we is." Jack smiled back briefly, before he actually did run into a light pole. Crutchie started laughing hysterically even as he fell over, amused at the expression on Jack's face, one of both joy and utter confusion. "I knew you would end up doin' that!" Jack started laughing too, and he helped Crutchie to his feet.

"Let's just get home, hey?" Crutchie nodded and slung an arm around Jack's shoulder, supporting himself as they headed home, Jack's body keeping him warm and helping the subsiding coughs.

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Jack sat in the common room, watching out the front window nervously.

"I'm sure he's fine, Jacky. He can take care of himself." Bear said, looking up from the book he'd snagged off Specs.

"He's always home before now. _Always_!" Crutchie wasn't home, and it was making Jack very nervous. "I'm going out to find him."

"Jack, you're only thirteen! You can't just go out alone at night! Especially not while you're on track to being second in command when Al leaves!"

"I'm not leaving him out there! Something is wrong!" Jack stood up and walked to the door. "If I don't find him soon, I'll come back for help, but I _know_ that he needs help somewhere. I _know_." Bear watched him go.

"Whistle like the Bird taught you if you need help." Jack walked quickly, trying to shield himself a little bit from the winter wind.

"Crutchie! Crutchie! Crutch!" He called, peering down alleys. "Crutch-ieeeeee! Crutchie, please! Crutchie!" He paused, listening. He thought he heard coughing, and when he really concentrated, he heard the voice.

"J-jack? Is dat you'se?" He ran into the alley it had come from, seeing Crutchie hunched over on a crate, coughing hard.

"Crutchie! What happened? What happened ta da crutch?" He took in the bruises and cuts, and the crutch that was broken in half on the ground.

"Some boys...some boys jumped me...an' dey...dey broke...da crutch….so I'se couldn't….couldn't walk home." He was coughing. Jack could hear the roughness in his throat. Crutchie was sick, and when he got sick, it was scary.

"You'se sick! C'mon! We'se gotta git ya someplace warm, where you'se can get better!" Crutchie tried to protest that he was fine, but the way he was coughing between sentences told Jack otherwise. He pulled Crutchie up, kicking the crutch away and slinging Crutchie's arm around his shoulder. "Ya needed a new one, anyway. We'll find a new one for ya soon."

"Thanks." Crutchie looked down. For a moment, Jack was reminded of his brother. Crutchie had the same air of innocence, the same gentle acceptance of whatever happened to him. For just a second, instead of seeing his best friend, he saw the dark hair and big eyes of his brother.

"It's what brothers do." He said, not really thinking about the words, checking to make sure they were safe. He heard Crutchie whisper something, and then he started coughing harder than before. Jack hugged him into his side, trying to keep him warm. When the coughing slowed down, Crutchie spoke up again.

"Brothers. You...called us...brothers." Jack looked at him.

"Yeah, I did. Ain't we brothers?" He was hopeful. There was something between the two of them that he'd never had a name for until now, that he'd just realized what it really was. They really were brothers. Crutchie flashed his huge grin.

"Yeah, I guess we is." Jack met his eye and grinned back, until he hit something and ended up sprawled on the ground, Crutchie laughing beside him. Jack looked up and saw the light post he'd run into.

"I knew you would end up doin' that!" Jack couldn't help but start laughing too, as they lay on the sidewalk with people just walking around them like they weren't even there. He stood and helped Crutchie back to his feet, pulling him in close again.

"Let's just get home, hey?" Crutchie nodded, and they started the walk home. Jack could feel his cold body warming against him, and he smiled to himself. This is what being brothers meant. Always helping each other, always there for each other. It was what Jack had had with Ben, and what he had with Crutchie, and it was amazing. It was good.

 **The end. Not sure how this ended up, but oh, well.**


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